


it's everything

by Fiannly



Series: Sweater Cinematic Universe [1]
Category: The Murderbot Diaries - Martha Wells
Genre: Gen, Other, feelings (gross), oversize sweaters, unspecified space future holiday
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-20
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:26:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,893
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28184619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fiannly/pseuds/Fiannly
Summary: It was apparently something about gift giving and having a large meal with friends and family to celebrate that you weren’t dead. Or something.
Relationships: Asshole Research Transport & Murderbot (Murderbot Diaries)
Series: Sweater Cinematic Universe [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2199312
Comments: 27
Kudos: 104





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Этого достаточно](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29066967) by [bitari](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bitari/pseuds/bitari), [WTF Cyberpunk 2021 (fandom_Cyberpunk_2019)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fandom_Cyberpunk_2019/pseuds/WTF%20Cyberpunk%202021)



> Don't look at me, I had a feeling and this came out.

ART’s crew had already deployed to Preservation’s surface to participate in the celebrations. It was apparently something about gift giving and having a large meal with friends and family to celebrate that you weren’t dead. Or something. Iris worried that I would feel left out, but I planned to go later when the entertainment started, to visit Mensah and record the performances with my drones so ART and I could watch them later.

In the meantime, I had several cycles of human-free time to relax aboard ART, and I planned to spend most of that time sitting in my quarters, watching media. I’d gotten used to ART’s crew, and they were mostly used to me, but it was still nice to not have to worry about them. ART was keeping track of them on the surface through their feed interfaces, and on Preservation they were the safest they could be on a planet.

We were finishing up a serial about an alien (that looked like a human) that’s mission was to save a planet from destruction. It was completely unrealistic, especially involving space travel.

As the credits started, there was a noise from the recycler as an article of clothing dropped out.

 _ART, what is this?_ I asked as I picked it up. It was larger than my regular clothes, long sleeved and made of a thick soft feeling material. It had a dark grey and black star pattern, and felt nice against my fingers. _I already have clothing._

_Now you have more._

_This would be terrible as armor_ , I said after I pulled it over my head. Wearing it made me feel weird, and I wasn’t sure why. The sleeves were longer than they needed to be, covering my hands if I wanted them to. I felt my shoulders relax, and I hadn’t realized I’d tensed them. This was… comfortable. Like the feeling of being safe in my own quarters, but I was already in my quarters.

It was strange.

_I have been experimenting with various fibers. Testing indicates this fiber medley is consistently as strong as the armor I’ve provided for you in the past, while maintaining the comforting tactile sensation._

_Why?_

ART understood what I was asking. _I found the idea of participating in the celebration pleasing._

Oh. I could feel ART’s attention on me as I pulled the sleeves to cover my hands. _There’s a mutual giving aspect to this celebration. I haven’t given you anything._

_You returned my crew to me, and became part of it. That is enough._


	2. Chapter 2

I traveled down to the planet the day the performances were set to start. I was still wearing the clothing ART had made for me, because I wanted to and it’s not like anyone could stop me.

Ratthi grinned when he saw me walking in the direction of Mensah’s family group. He jogged toward me, which was completely illogical. (Humans on media did this too, like they were impatient with waiting the extra ten seconds for someone to join the rest of the group.) “That’s nice,” Ratthi said as he matched my pace, and gestured at my chest to what I assume was my sweater, “It looks soft.”

“It is,” I replied. Ratthi’s fingers did the thing humans do when they want to touch something but know better, so his arms stayed at his sides. He didn’t ask, and I wasn’t going to offer. He’s my friend, but it was my sweater; he could find his own. Preservation’s human-made clothing had fibers that were similar, and bulkier than the recycler-made clothing that was the majority on the Corporation Rim. I don’t know what ART did to make this, or what happened in the recycler to make it so soft and bulky in the comforting way. (There was never a reason to give me an education module about textiles, and I honestly don’t care enough to look up any education media about it when ART already knows that kind of stuff.)

“That design is pretty, did you get it from one of the shops here?” Amena asked when we got close enough to Mensah’s family and ART’s crew outside of the building the first performance would be in. Mensah and her partners were guiding the younger children and teenagers into the building, but she did stop to smile at me, then was distracted by Taya (who still looked like a miniature version of Mensah) asking a question.

“ART made it as a celebration gift,” I said, distracted as I automatically scanned the area for any hostile behavior, and sent my drones off to record both the play here, and the few starting later in a couple of surrounding buildings in this area of town.

One of the drones I kept with me caught Amena’s face as it did a thing I couldn’t parse, with her lips folded into her mouth and her eyes getting wide, so I ignored it. Adolescent humans continue to be baffling. Ratthi made a noise like he was choking, but he didn’t seem to be in distress, so I ignored that too.

Iris had hung back with Amena, and she smiled, “Peri’s never showed interest in participating in a celebration before.”

“Really?” Amena asked, turning to her with an interested look on her face.

Ratthi cleared his throat and started waving them toward the entrance, “It’s going to start soon, we should go inside.”

I didn’t know how to react to any of that, but I was saved from coming up with a response by Taya running toward us. Mensah just watched and didn’t try to stop her. Taya didn’t try to grab me. After the first time one did that and realized I didn’t like to be touched, the kids were very careful. Instead she stood next to me just far enough away that I wouldn't feel uncomfortable, and watched Amena, Iris, and Ratthi heading inside instead of looking at me. 

_We missed you, SecUnit_ , She sent over the feed.

Did I miss the kids? I was glad they were safe with Mensah. I didn’t miss the awkward questions they occasionally asked at the start of my time on Preservation, but those had slowed down once they got used to me. And once they realized I would share media with them.

_I brought downloads of some entertainment media from my friend’s university archive. Would you like a copy?_

Through my drones I could see her face light up. _Yes please!_

I sent the downloads to her feed, and she shifted on her feet, then said, _I have something for you too, from all of us._ And a request to send me a small entertainment media file popped into my feed.

That was unexpected. It took me a full second to accept it and respond, _Thank you._

 _You’re welcome! I’m going to sit down._ She ran back to Mensah, said something my drone didn’t catch, then went inside.

“Iris told us about the trip with her crew. It sounds like they’re getting to know you,” Mensah said when I reached her. She looked at the drone I was watching her with.

“They are. It’s… not terrible.”

Mensah snorted, but she was smiling, “High praise.”

“Are you… doing okay?” She would have finished all the trauma treatment appointments by now, and she did seem, I don’t know, better somehow. Like she was carrying a weight before that she didn’t have anymore.

“Yes, everything’s fine. Life has gone back to normal. Or as normal as it can be with the children asking when SecUnit is going to visit again,” Mensah smiled wryly, “They got attached to you.”

I didn’t know what to say to that, so instead I said, “Taya gave me a file.”

Mensah nodded, “They know you like media, and wanted to give you something you couldn’t get anywhere else.”

A noise sounded from inside that indicated the play would be starting soon. Mensah went to sit with the rest of the group, and I watched as I took a spot at the back of the room away from other humans. There was still enough time before the play was scheduled to start so I pulled up the file Taya gave me.

It was… a short amateur play, just a few minutes long, with the kids acting as the characters, complete with homemade costuming. They looked like they were having fun, and trying to be serious with their parts. I could feel my face doing something as an emotion that I couldn’t stop bubbled in my chest. 

When it was over I immediately saved it to permanent archive. I didn’t want any chance for it to be deleted or overwritten. It was definitely not something I could find anywhere else.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   
> (by TroublesomeToad)


	3. Chapter 3

The celebration had ended and everyone had returned to ART. They were planning a return trip to the university and well, let’s see how well that goes when I get there. I didn’t plan on going to the planet or even on the transit ring.

I pulled my sweater off once I was back in my crew cabin. One of Mensah’s smallest offspring had accidentally bumped into me while playing (juveniles are so uncoordinated and he hadn’t been watching where he was running) and gotten dirt on the sleeve.

I was telling ART about all of the performances I’d recorded and asking which one it would like to watch first, when I realized there was a patch on the wrist of my sweater that felt differently than the rest of the sleeve. I don’t know how I didn’t notice it before. I must be spending too much time around humans and their lack of awareness was rubbing off on me.

That was a horrifying thought.

I felt ART’s awareness in the feed intensify as I sat on my (really comfortable) chair and examined the small pattern of stitches. It was the same compressed machine language as they’d used on Three so I wouldn’t automatically shoot it before it could save me.

———————————————  
| if found, return to Perihelion |  
———————————————

I didn’t say anything, just looked at it as I tried to put a name to the emotion I was feeling. ART just existed, its attention in the feed growing stronger to the point where I wondered if there was any left for the rest of the crew. (Okay so that’s an exaggeration, but that’s what it felt like.)

_You don’t have these on the humans clothes._

_You are my crew._

_That’s not an answer._

_You didn’t ask a question, you merely made a statement._

_ART._

There was a pause, then it said, _You’re different._

I expected to be irritated, but it never came. I _was_ different than ART’s humans. It cared about them, a lot. Enough to do anything to get them back if they were taken, included killing other humans or blowing up a plane-

I stopped. 

My silence went for 3.7 seconds, processing this entire situation, and ART apparently interpreted that as anger, because it sent, _Return it to the recycler and I will remove it._

_No._

_I do not wish to have dirty clothing in my cabins._

_That’s not what I meant and you know it_ , I sent as I got up and walked to the recycler, dropping it in. _Would you like to watch a short play we can’t get anywhere else?_

**Author's Note:**

> You can say hi on [twitter](https://twitter.com/WriterPhoebe) or [tumblr](https://swissfuckingcheesegdi.tumblr.com/) or I have a [fandom podcast](http://hashtagfandom.life/)!


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